


the sun still rises in the east

by winterbones



Category: Pacific Rim (2013)
Genre: F/M, Movie Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-19
Updated: 2013-10-19
Packaged: 2017-12-29 21:42:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,462
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1010451
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/winterbones/pseuds/winterbones
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>there's a whole world at there, and they're waiting for you. But Raleigh and Mako have always moved at their own pace.</p>
            </blockquote>





	the sun still rises in the east

In the grand scheme of things, they came out of it relatively unscathed. Mako had a minor fracture on her left ribcage, a broken big toe on her right foot and a few minor abrasion on her face that she was assured heal nicely (as if that mattered). Raleigh was a little worse off, but not too bad when you considered his dance with no air and their descent into the belly of the beast. A nasty gash on his left side that looked worse than it was, a busted lip, and (she found out later) a concussion that explained the way his eyes dilated in and out as they clutched each other waiting for the choppers.

Raleigh was rushed into the medical bay to be patched up, and Mako couldn’t deny that slight, knifing panic at seeming him being pulled away from her. A consequence of the drift, no doubt. Her body has grown accustomed to functioning with him and there was a quiet sort of worry that without him, she would simply cease to exist.

Luckily, though, the sedative the doctor injected her with kept the worst of her fear at bay, and she slept like the dead.

Mako dreamt of the drift, the first night, the cold blue tinge of it rolling like water between her fingers, Pentecost’s slow, solemn smile always just beyond her reach. But she didn’t chase after him, though she wanted too, her fingers itched to move her forward because Mako learned her lessons and learned them well— _don’t chase the rabbit_.

Pentecost didn’t look truly happy, not even in her dreams. She didn’t have a single memory of him that wasn’t laced through with the grave weight of his rank, well-loved face etched with the memories of dead sisters and dead friends and dad family.

“You can always find me in the drift,” he told her, strong voice now wispy as if reaching out to her through the veil.

_But don’t chase the rabbit_ , Mako thought, and smiled.

 

 

 

 

 

When she woke up Hercules Hansen was at her bedside, craggy face outlined by slivers of moonlight between the slights blinded of the window. His arm rested awkwardly in his sling, a restless hum of energy from it, from a man who had never used to being so inactive.

“There you are,” Hansen said. Mako worried dissect his fresh grief from his old, worried worn down into the lines around his mouth. He and Pentecost had always had that in common. “Just wanted to be around when you came to. Beckett’s still sleeping it off in the OR.”

“How is he?”

Hansen answered with a shrug. “Banged up some, but in good shape. Bloody miracle, considering.”

Was he thinking of his son’s last moments? Mako was. The silence stretched between them, not uncomfortable, but heavy. They both had walked on the dead to get to this place, this tiny little room at the very back of the med bay. And Pentecost had told her once that a parent should never have to bury a child.

“Your son was—a good man.” Raleigh had told her, looking at her from across the bridge that connected their two minds, that he had bad timing. Well, Mako’s never been good at sympathy, or comforting.

Hansen’s face split in a watery smile, the most vulnerable she had ever seen him. “He was, wasn’t he? Surprised the hell out of him me it, too. He always liked to keep me on my toes.”

Mako hadn’t particularly cared for Chuck Hansen, one way or the other. She had never interacted with him much, and the few times she had had never left much of an impression. Pentecost had figured him out on day one, Mako on day two. He’d been a boy for all he’d been a ranger, arrogant and mean and hard. She might have understood him, given a bit more time. He’d carried around the same hate she did, the same fruitless rage, they’d both had a childhood washed in blood.

He’d been a boy the last time he’d climbed into his Jaeger—the first time without his father. He’d died a man, though.

“He’d never let me live it down if he could see me now,” Hansen said, the glistening tears on his cheeks shinning brilliantly in the moonlight.

Mako had never been good at offering comfort, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t try. “I won’t tell anyone.”

 

 

 

 

 

“You’re on bed rest,” Mako called over her shoulder. She didn’t need to turn to see who it was. His footfalls resounded in her memory, and she knew them as well as her own.

“I’m known for my insubordination,” Raleigh pointed out, hobbling awkwardly on crutches to drop himself unceremoniously on her bed. The gash on his side had been a little deeper and a little longer than they had initially though, but with some physical therapy and time he’d been back to crawling on as many walls as he liked.

Mako rolled her eyes at his easy, earnest grin.

“Besides,” he went on. “I wanted to see you.”

She jolted, and he probably expected her to. It was one thing, to feel those kind of things in a drift, to acknowledge them and bring them into herself, to make them a part of her, because in the drift the sharing felt natural. Meant. All those walls were stripped down and it was just two bodies and two minds and nothing but the silence.

Here, in the real world, things tended to be a bit more complicated and Mako had never really been good at this sort of thing—men. Pentecost was protective, but never stifling, and he’d given her free reign in that area. The problem was, she had never really had a kind of interest in—that sort of thing. Halfhearted kisses that were often pushed aside in the wake of her trauma, of her memories, of her thirst for vengeance.

His smile ticked up, become ironic. “Thank God for the drift,” he said at last.

She stared at him, unblinking.

“Otherwise I’d never know what you were thinking.”

It doesn’t make her uncomfortable now that he can—which was telling. Mako was always a bit of enigma—Chuck Hansen had once called her _Pentecost’s little shadow_ before he’d been silenced by his father; hence why Mako had never really liked him—and no one had ever known her the way Raleigh did.

“Eventually we’re going to leave the Shatterdome,” he pointed out. “And when we do—have you read the newspapers? _Earth’s Last Heroes_ they’re calling us.”

Mako knew that. Hansen had been slipping her the newspaper for the last few days, more of a warning than anything else, she thought.

“When we finally emerged from this hidey-hole they’re going to want to know—a lot things we might not want to talk about.”

Like Pentecost. Like Chuck Hansen. Like surviving a trip to the breach. About them, was what no doubt what Raleigh was referring and it occurred to Mako knew. Drift partners typically had some previous connection—father and son, best friends, siblings, husband and wife—the whole world was waiting to see what exactly made Mako Mori, a rookie from a defunct government program, and Raleigh Beckett, a shattered solider with a dead brother, perfect in a Jaeger together.

They hadn’t even really figured it out. It was easy in the drift, when she didn’t have to question why Raleigh Beckett seemed to click perfectly against her, when it was just because and that was enough.

“Drift determines compatibility,” Raleigh said, watching her move about her tiny room, her restless energy unlike her. “That’s all. It doesn’t determine how—”

A sweeping pace had brought her close to him and Mako stopped abruptly, laying her fingers across his lips. His words still. “Raleigh,” she said. “I know.”

Beneath her fingertips his smile bloomed again, and his hand curled around her wrist, tugging. Mako let herself fall, leveling herself on his shoulder so she didn’t put undo pressure on his leg. His mouth coasted across hers, more curious than anything else, and Mako answered those tentative questions with cautious ones of her own.

“We’ll figure it out,” Mako decided, attention already diverted to more interesting topics. She had seen Raleigh without a shirt once, and had been unabashedly inquisitive. She fingers found their way underneath their shirt, and rolled over the ropy scar tissue of where his suit had burned into his flesh five years ago.

She wondered what he’d do if she kissed them.

Raleigh knew where her thoughts were going, and undulating beneath her. “Yes. Definitely Figure it out.” His voice had a breathless quality that made Mako feel powerful and alive. “Later.”

Definitely later.

**Author's Note:**

> because they're adorable and also this movie makes me sad


End file.
